A Sick Twist of Fate
by MostTulip
Summary: The King in the North is dead, but his Queen still lives. And now she travels farther North than she ever planned to go to find the new King. On hiatus.
1. We Can't Always Get What We Want

**Uses elements from Jeyne Westerling (book) theory and the Grand Northern Conspiracy.**

* * *

There was blood, on her hands, on her dress. It was everywhere. But Talisa barely noticed. All she could see was the body lying on the ground. Crossbow bolts were sticking out of his chest.

"Robb," she sobbed. As if he could hear her voice in whatever oblivion he had been, he opened his eyes.

"Robb," she said again, little more than a whisper. His pain-filled eyes met hers and he mouthed a word. _Go. _Slowly, he stood up, never taking his eyes off her.

"The King in the North arises," Walder Frey crooned from the dias.

"Go," Robb whispered to her. A hand held her shoulder. Twisting her head around to see, she found herself looking into the face of the Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish.

"Your Grace, we need to leave."

"Lord Walder. Lord Walder, enough! Let it end. Please, he is my son. My _first _son. Let him go and I swear that we will forget this." Talisa had not heard Catelyn Stark move, had not seen her bring a knife to the throat of Walder Frey's wife.

"I swear it by the Old gods and new. We will take no vengence." Lady Stark continued to speak. But she might as well have been trying to move a mountain. It was obvious that Lord Walder had no intention of letting Robb go.

"You already swore my one oath right here in my castle. You swore by all the gods your son would marry my daughter!"_ Oh Robb, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault._

"Take me for your hostage, but let Robb go." Lady Catelyn had turned to where her son was still standing, staring at her. "Robb, take Talisa. Take her and walk out. Please. Please!"

Lady Stark was crying now. And she wasn't the only one. Talisa could feel the tears seeping from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. _Robb, no. I can't leave you. Please don't make me._

"And why would I let him do that?" Lord Walder asked slowly. Lady Stark turned back to him, and suddenly the tears and grief were gone, replaced by hard determination.

"Go North," Robb said quietly to her. His voice was hoarse. _For our son. For me, _his eyes seemed to say.

At any other time, she would have wondered why they would go North, but this wasn't any other time. Their army was getting massacred. Her husband was barely standing, and some part of her knew, deep down, that Robb would not leave this castle alive.

"On my honor as a Tully"

The Blackfish was pulling her away now.

"On my honor as a Stark"

They were crawling, staying low to avoid the crossbows.

"Let him go, or I will cut your wife's throat."

The last she saw of Robb was of him smiling at her, his face full of love and affection, before he faced Lord Walder.

"Mother," he slurred.

Talisa heard the heavy footsteps a moment before she heard, "The Lannisters send their regards." There was the sound of a blade cutting through flesh, and a body dropping. Then she knew no more.

* * *

"Why are we going North?"

They had been traveling for a week now. During their escape from the Twins, Ser Brynden had gathered a few other men. There were ten of them now. This was the first time she had spoken except to demand to be taken back, to be with Robb.

The Blackfish sighed, and he looked frustrated and angry for a second before composing his features. "You are the Queen, Your Grace. But if we are to win this war, the North needs a King. One who can rally the lords and men, one who can fight by their side. Your son - if it even is a son - will not be able to do that for many years. We are going North to the heir King Robb named, should he ever die before you have a son that is of age."

"His brothers are dead, his sisters are captives of the Lannisters. Who else could he trust to take his place as King and protect his family?" _There is no one else. I should have stayed Robb. I'm sorry, my love._

"Not all his brothers are dead," Ser Brynden said stiffly. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she gazed up from where she had been staring into the fire to her great-uncle's face.

"Before we got to the Twins, Robb called some of his lords - myself included - to bear witness to the creation of his will and to sign it. He gave false copies to Maege Mormont and Galbert Glover and sent them to find Greywater Watch."

"Ser Brynden," she interrupted anything else he was about to say. "Who is the heir that my husband named."

A dark look crossed his face before he said, "Jon Snow, now Jon Stark. We're going North to the Wall. Upon Robb's death, his half-brother would be legitimized and his vows to the Night's Watch would be annulled. He is the King of the North until your son is born."

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**A/N: If you would like me to continue this, let me know. :)**


	2. Wounds I Can't Heal

**A Wound I Can't Heal**

"Have you ever met Jon Snow?" Talisa asked one of the northerners traveling with them. Terin, that was his name. He was barely ten years older than her, and yet, when he met her gaze, his eyes made him appear thirty years older than her. The death of one's King at a wedding was not something that was taken lightly. Especially by those who felt they have done more to save him.

"Once, I think. I have served the Umbers for nearly fifteen years. Through my years of service, I became a close friend to my liege lord, and would usually travel with the Greatjon. Some of the men used to say I was his sworn shield. But we had visited Winterfell once, before the war. There was a big feast in welcome. Mind you, nothing as big as _that _feast." A dark glint came into his eyes. He shook his head and continued. "I had gone outside for a breath of fresh air, trying to clear the wine from my head. There had been a boy out there, whacking at a practice dummy. He would have only seen twelve name-days. At first, I wondered why he was out there, in the cold, when there was a feast inside, with food and wine and women a-plenty. I must have made some sound, because he froze and turned around to see who I was. And when I stared into that face - even though he looked nothing like his father - I just _knew. _I knew that I was staring at Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son."

A gust of cool wind had her teeth chattering. She wrapped her arms tighter around her body and edged closer to the fire. None of them had thought to grab extra cloaks or blankets in their haste to escape the Twins. Not for the first time, she wished that Robb was with her. They'd always kept each other warm, whether it be through just sleeping beside one another or more sexual activitues. And she once again felt the tears that fell from her eyes and onto the ground before her.

_Robb is gone. _It hurt. Even after nearly two weeks, the realization was more painful than anything Talisa had ever felt in her life. Robb - her one love, the father of her child, the King that had never once lost a battle - was dead and she had not died with him. The only thing that kept her alive anymore was the baby growing inside her belly and the hope that one day, her child's father would be avenged. And right now, that hope lay north.

The Blackfish had said that they had just crossed into the North three days ago. She did not find it hard to believe. Already, the temperature was much cooler than it had been some miles back. From what the northerners had told her, it was only going to get colder where they were going.

"There's no place as cold as the fucking Wall," one of the men had grumbled. "It always snows. The cold seeps into your bones and steals whatever warmth there was in the first place."

He had turned to her, and chuckled as he saw her trying to get nearer to the fire without burning herself. "If this is cold to you, you're not going to survive the Wall. It will be hell."

_Like you know anything of hell. _Everyday was a new hell. It wasn't just the constant riding, the running, the hiding, the fear. It wasn't just the lack of food, the cooling days and nights. Talisa had to live with the fact that her husband was dead, murdered by his own men. And it was all her fault.

If she had just stopped them, had stopped it all from happening . . . maybe then Robb would have lived. Would have married the sweet Frey girl (if any Freys could be called that) and returned to Winterfell. Would have reunited his family and found justice for his father. Would have made a family of his own. She couldn't truly regret her love for him, the nights they had spent in each other's arms. But she could regret the danger that she had put all their lives in.

Months ago, she would have been repulsed by the idea of becoming a King's whore. But now, she would give anything to have taken that path. She would have been content with Robb's love that way. He would have lived that way.

"Your Grace?" The concerned voice and warm hand on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts. Ser Brynden was staring down at her. The fire cast shadows across his face and made him look even more fierce than before. She realized that she had been so lost in her mind that she'd failed to respond to anyone for some minutes.

"I-I'm fine," she whispers, and in her head says _as fine as you can be when everything you love is gone. _But she doesn't say that. It would be unfair to Ser Brynden to do that. He was already giving up so much for her. He could have gone back to Riverrun and organized the remains of the army into something useful, or even stayed at the Twins to fight for his King and niece. Instead, he was riding North with his pregnant Queen, to find the bastard that had brought so much insult upon his most beloved niece and to give him a crown in place of his great-nephew. No, he was giving her too much already for her to snap at him.

Satisfied, the Blackfish nodded. He turned so as to address the entire group. "We leave at first light."

Talisa repressed a groan. Even when riding with Robb and his army, they'd never spent so little time resting and so much time traveling, with so little food and comfort. Especially in this weather.

That was something else that bothered her. The weather. Robb would have welcomed the cold, loved it. He grew up in the cold and snow of the North. It was home to him. She had been born and raised in Volantis, where the sun always shined. She'd never seen snow before in her life. It had made her feel almost ashamed to know that the place that would soon be her home would only remind her how much of an outsider she was.

And that brought on another thought. Was that how Jon Snow had felt? Why he left for the Wall? Was he as much an outsider as her? Talisa was certain that Robb would have willingly given his half-brother the Stark name, a holdfast of his own, a place by his side. Yet the bastard had chosen the Wall. For a minute, she wondered if it was because he had done something wrong. Most men that were sent to the Wall were criminals. Had Jon Snow tried to do something terrible? Thoughts and images of a shadow of man (for she did not know Jon Snow's face) attempting to kill Robb filled her head.

Shaking her head, she tried to force those thoughts away. If Jon Snow had tried to hurt Robb, Eddard Stark would have executed him. No, that was not his reason for the Night's Watch. But the mystery remained. Why would a bastard (as unfair a position as that was) who was raised with the highborn children of a lord and given every comfort choose to go somewhere so cold and soulless?

Somewhere, off in the distance, a wolf howled. _Winter is coming, _she thought as she laid down to rest, _but it will be Jon Snow that I face it with, not Robb._


	3. Hunger For What You Cannot Have

**In order for this to work, assume that when Arya and the Hound left the Twins, they headed a few miles North before deciding to go to the Eyrie.**

* * *

**Hunger For What You Cannot Have**

_"I love you," he whispered against her skin. He brushed his lips up her neck as he said this, laying small kisses to her jawline. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on the bulge of her stomach._

_"I love you, too," she answered him, and he pressed his mouth against hers. It was warm and hot and his tongue entered her mouth. His other hand stroked her cheek, a loving gesture._

_When they broke apart, he began kissing down her body. He kissed her neck, her chest, her breasts, and down to her stomach. There, he rested his head against their growing child, as if he was listening for a little heartbeat._

_She tangled her hands in his hair, gently tugging to signify she wanted to kiss him again. He hummed in amusement, refusing to budge._

_"You know it will be a few months before they start to do anything." He laughed softly, and only hummed in response. "I bet they will be strong, just like their father. You'll be able to feel their kick through armor. And you'll hear their heartbeat a mile away."_

_He lifted his face, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. A lazy smile crossed his face. "And they will be as beautiful as their mother. If it's a girl, she'll be the beauty of the North, second only to the Queen. If it's a boy, he'll have every woman in all of Westeros begging to be his wife."_

_"Is that what you think? You've gotten my hopes up now. You'd better be right." As she said this, he crawled up her body, until their lips were crashing against each other once more._

_He continued to whisper "I love you," as she wrapped her legs around his waist and their kiss became so much more passionate._

* * *

She could still feel his lips when she woke up. It was as if he was really there. And it hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. A thousand stabs to the heart would not have brought her so much pain as this.

Talisa groaned, stretching the stiff muscles of her arms. Her entire body was stiff and sore from their time in the saddle and sleeping on the ground. She wondered if it was good for the baby, if it would damage her child in any way. _I suppose it is a necessary risk, _she thought to herself. _My child needs a father and the North needs a king if it is to avenge the Starks._

The idea only brought tears to her eyes. Her child would never know their real father. Jon Stark would be there for their entire childhood, would be there when they grew up and had children of their own. But Robb wouldn't. Jon would hold their child, not Robb. Jon would teach them to ride, not Robb. Jon would be their father, not Robb.

In her brooding thoughts, she hadn't noticed the figure creeping up on her from behind her back. Her scream was muffled as a hand clamped down on her mouth. Strong arms held her pinned to the ground, restricting any and all movement. As fear coursed through her, she thought how ironic it was that it would all end before they ever reached the Wall. They'd had so much hope and now she would die and be with Robb.

"Your Grace, do not make a sound." Her fear was driven away at that voice. It was Ser Brynden Tully.

He continued to whisper to her. "There are Frey men nearby. They are searching for us. For _you._" She could have cried. How did they find them so fast?

"We have to go back. We won't be able to get past them without being caught." His hand left her mouth. Talisa made no sound, knowing any noise could get them killed.

They laid there, side by side, for what felt like an hour. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, and she had to calm her breathing several times. After a little while, the Blackfish embraced her, pulling her against his chest in an attempt to give her comfort.

Robb would have given her the most comfort, would have made her feel brave and fearless and capable of anything. But Robb wasn't there. So she had to settle against Ser Brynden and take whatever comfort from him that she could. She closed her eyes, trying to think of her husband.

The Blackfish shook her shoulder gently, murmuring "they're gone, Your Grace." She took his hand when he offered it, helping her to her feet. They had found a small clearing in the trees, hidden from view and hard to find. The men had almost given up hope two days ago when one scout found it. They needed a place to rest in as much peace as there could be and their supplies were running low.

The other men had gathered in a small circle, speaking softly among themselves when Talisa and the Blackfish joined them.

"We have to go back," he repeated, anger evident in his tone of voice. Nowhere except the Wall was safe, but going back was perhaps the most dangerous option. As it were, though, going back might be the only way they could survive. There were enemies very close ahead, and enemies a ways off behind.

"We need someplace to go. Someplace to lay low until these men leave and we can continue North," he said. The others nodded in agreement, albeit reluctantly. They knew the risks as well.

Terin spoke up. "We passed an inn somewhere behind us. Perhaps that could work." He turned to look at her, though his words were still directed at Ser Brynden. "Few have seen Queen Talisa. As long as we don't attract too much attention, we should be able to remain there."

The Blackfish nodded. "Very well. Hopefully we can restock in supplies and find fresh horses." Their horses were weak and tired.

"We could try for the Eyrie after that," a man named Cal said. "King Robb's aunt is the lady there. She could give us refuge . . ." The Blackfish was already shaking his head.

"No. The Eyrie took no part in the war. They will not offer us shelter or safety."

"But Lady Lysa-" Terin began. He was cut off by Ser Brynden.

"Lysa is not the woman she once was. She is not in her right mind. We will not find safety there. We need to stay at the inn for as long as is necessary, then get to the Wall. After that- after that the decision of our next move will be in the hands of Jon Stark." He left out the part where they would reveal Robb's will and Talisa would marry her good-brother.

Cal and Terin looked down, embarrassed by their failed idea. Talisa smiled at them, trying to make them feel better about themselves, although it probably appeared as more of a grimace. There wasn't much for her to smile about these days.

Ser Brynden nodded, satisfied with their new plan. "Get the horses ready. We're leaving for that inn at midday."

The men stood up, brushing themselves off. They all wandered off in different directions, preparing their supplies for the ride. Talisa remained where she sat, suddenly feeling nausea. It was probably just the morning sickness, which would pass soon.

"We should find you a handmaiden," a voice said from behind her. She turned around to see Harod, one of the more silent northerners. He had a kind face, a young face, but he was experienced from what Ser Brynden had told her.

She gave a soft laugh. "I don't think many girls want to serve the supposedly dead traitor queen of the North. And besides, I have no need of one."

"You do." He came to stand right beside her, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "As the child grows larger, you will get sicker and exhausted quicker and . . . well, you know. You should have someone to help you with that.

"All of us," he gestured to the other men, "are here to protect you. None of us know anything about delivering a baby, and I doubt there's anyone on the Wall who does. Assuming we reach the Wall before you give birth. You need someone to serve you and help you."

He was so determined, Talisa felt touched. The men were friendly, but none had shown this amount of kindness to her. She nodded. "I'll see about it." He beamed, pleased at being taken seriously, and began walking away.

"Harod!" she called to him. He turned back. "Thank you, for caring this much."

If anything, his smile grew wider. And Talisa felt she was moving along the first steps of a friendship.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize if the dream is just completely horrible and mushy. I'm not good at writing romance.**


	4. No Longer Alone

**This chapter is pretty long, but I couldn't cut out anything or split it. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think about it. **

* * *

**No Longer Alone**

The inn was a fairly large, although it was practically hidden by the trees. Had it not been for open path on one side, no one would have been able to find it. There were horses out front already. Who their owners were, though, they did not know. Talisa and her men were hiding some couple of feet away from it, deciding what their plan of action would be.

"Cal, Harod. You two will come with Her Grace and I into the inn," the Blackfish commanded, addressing the two men. They nodded. "Leave your swords or keep them hidden, it's your choice. But have some weapon with you. We don't know who might be in there or who might come and go."

Talisa wrung her hands, a little apprehensive and afraid of entering that building. The last time she'd stopped anywhere for food and rest, her husband and their army had been murdered. Obviously, the owner of the inn was not Walder Frey, but word could have reached the smallfolk that Talisa Stark, the Queen in the North, had escaped the massacre at the Twins.

"Are we sure about this?" Everyone turned their heads to look at her. "What if those are Lannister men in there? You're right when you think that few men have seen me. But everyone knows that Robb Stark's wife is a foreigner. How hard will it be to guess that I am the Queen in the North when I appear like I'm from across the Narrow Sea and I have three armed men guarding me?"

"She's right," Harod said. Now their attention was on him. Talisa smiled gratefully, thankful that her new friend was on her side. "The moment we walk in there, it won't be difficult to guess who we are."

"What do we do?" Terin asked. They sat in silence, no one having a better idea. Well, Talisa had an idea, but she was loath to go through with it.

Gathering her courage, she cleared her throat and said, "There is another way we could do it. We could split up, enter at different times. Ser Brynden and Cal can pretend that they are soldiers or sellswords. And Harod and I can . . . we can say we are man and wife."

Immediately, everyone began voicing their opinions about her plan. Most were against it, claiming she needed all the protection she could get. Only a few were agreeing with her. Ser Brynden remained quiet, just watching her with sad eyes. He understood what cost this was for her; the thought of marrying any other man besides Robb was hard enough. Now, she had to pretend like Robb had never been her husband, even if it was for a short time.

Two weeks was not enough time to stop grieving. And the fate of the King in the North did not help things, either. Some of the men had overheard from travelers they had passed while scouting what had befallen the body of Robb Stark. Talisa had cried the whole night when they told them. The Frey men had cut off Robb's head, then sewed Grey Wind's on his body. They had paraded it around the Twins like a trophy, shouting "The King in the North, the King in the North!"

Talisa was eternally grateful that they had escaped before that. If she'd seen it, she might have killed herself right then and there, regardless of her baby or the North.

"Shut your mouths!" The men hushed as the Blackfish began speaking again. "We'll do it Queen Talisa's way. It is perhaps the safer option. And that way, two of us can carry all our weapons without having to hide them. It would be odd for sellswords to be weaponless."

* * *

Talisa and Harod entered the inn first. His arm was wrapped around her waist and she was pressed against his side. They had to appear the happy couple, two lovers that were traveling through the area for the Reach. Acting like she was joyful was not as hard as she expected. She didn't feel that way; far from it. But all she had to do was wear a smile, laugh with Harod, and look completely and utterly in love.

She thought of Robb when she had to do this. She thought of how he treated her, how he looked at her, how he made her feel whole. It was easy to convey those emotions onto her face, for her face was just a mask now. Her real feelings remained locked away inside - honestly, they had been since the moment Robb died. Oh, the men saw her pain, but they didn't _know._ They didn't feel it.

There were five men inside, the red and gold of House Lannister on their armor. Her heart seemed to stop beating and her breath caught in her throat. Talisa wanted to run from them, to cower in fear and hide. She couldn't though, because if she ran at the sight of them, they would know something was not right. They would catch her before she managed to get ten feet, and they would kill her and her baby. No, she had to remain strong and brave.

They sat down at one of the tables, across the room from the Lannister men. They were laughing and joking, almost oblivious to the newcomers. The smallest man noticed them. He watched them with curious eyes as they walked in and he followed them as they sat. He didn't say anything to them and he didn't get up to speak to them; he just watched.

"Wasn't so hard," Harod whispered out of the corner of his mouth, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Don't celebrate yet. We still don't have what we need." She hated having to crush his relief, but they couldn't lower their guard just yet. They were still in a very dangerous position.

Moments later, Ser Brynden and Cal walked in, looking for all the world like a pair of sellswords. They didn't have to clean themselves up like Talisa and Harod had to; on the contrary, they dirtied themselves a bit more to truly appear in character. Their swords were out in the open, displayed to portray them as dangerous. The small Lannister man turned his attention to them momentarily, but quickly switched back to Talisa and Harod.

"We want beer," the Blackfish growled when the innkeeper asked if there was anything he liked. The man nodded quickly, terrified by the patrons. Talisa didn't blame him. Five Lannister soldiers and two sellswords were more than enough to make any man nervous.

As the innkeeper went to fetch the drinks, the small Lannister soldier finally spoke to Talisa and Harod. "Where are you two coming from?" He called across the room.

Harod answered for them. "We came from White Harbor, and before that, Pentos." They'd agreed that they would say Talisa was from the Free Cities but had married Harod in Pentos.

"Where are you headed?" the man asked. He looked like he was buying their story, though his eyes remained suspicious.

"We're going to Highgarden. I have a cousin that serves the Tyrells there." It would be the safest thing to say. A happy couple claiming to go anywhere else in Westeros might not have been as believable. The Reach was probably the least affected by the war, aside from Dorne.

The man nodded in satisfaction. He gestured to Talisa. "Is this your wife?"

"Yes." Harod hugged her close, gazing at her with fake affection. "Nadia."

"She's a beauty. You're a very lucky man," one of the other Lannister men commented.

Talisa forced a smile onto her face. "Thank you. I recognize your sigil. You men must serve the great House Lannister." She wanted to bite her tongue off from the lies she had to say.

"We are. Polliver's my name. I'm in charge of these men. There's not much for us to do now, though. The war's won; Robb Stark is dead. The North has been defeated. His Queen's still out there, but she won't get far. We have others searching for the little bitch." Talisa's heart hammered in her chest, fear coursing through her veins at his words. They were looking for her, but she was sitting right in front of them.

Ser Brynden saved them from having to answer. "Where are your men looking?"

The Lannister man - Polliver - turned to look at the Blackfish. "They're searching North. She's probably looking for some northern lord to take her in, although I doubt any of them want her. She ran while their king was being murdered."

They were all struggling to contain their fury at the man's words, Talisa most of all. Robb had asked her to go, had begged her. She hadn't wanted to, but what could she have done? If she stayed, their child would be dead and so would she. Robb hadn't wanted her to die.

Her fists clenched and she tried to control her breathing. She couldn't give them away now.

"Maybe you should look south. It would be the smartest choice for her to go where no one expects her to. She could be hiding right under King Joffrey's nose and we wouldn't know," Cal suggested. It was obvious what he was doing; lead them away from their real path, buy them more time to get to the Wall.

Conversation between the three groups died off after that, with Polliver thanking them for the advice. He and one other man left to go outside for a few moments. The innkeeper had brought Talisa and Harod food and water. They thanked him and began eating. She tried her best to drown out the sound of the innkeeper's wife or daughter struggling to get free from one Lannister man. There was nothing they could do for her.

Talisa had ignored everything going on in the room until everything went quiet. Looking up from the table, she saw a large man and a small boy had entered the room. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the big man had half his face burned and the boy was really a girl. There was something familiar about the girl, but Talisa couldn't place it. The Blackfish must have seen it too, for he stared at her more than at her companion.

The girl closed the door and the two walked into the room. No one said anything. The Lannister men watched the newcomers, but did nothing. To their surprise, the man and girl sat down at a table next to Talisa and Harod's. She would have thought they would stay as far away from anyone as they could. The girl glanced at Talisa, who gave her a genuine smile. The girl smiled back, though quickly looked away.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers grabbed the woman from the other. The two fought for a few seconds, which ended with the first one winning her. It was cruel and horrible what they were doing, treating that woman like property. It reminded Talisa a little too much of home, of Volantis, a city where people could be bought and sold like cattle and treated no better, if not worse.

"Please," the innkeeper begged, "she's a good girl."

"Shut your mouth and bring us more ale," Polliver snapped. "Maybe I'll take her with us when we're done with her."

Talisa grew angry at this. These men had no right to just rape that woman and then threaten to take her away from her family. She wanted to get up and slap their leader, but refrained from it. Between her fear and her anger, she was having a very hard time sitting still. Harod wasn't doing much better, his fist opening and closing in his lap.

Polliver looked over at the man and the girl. "I know you," he said suddenly. Talisa saw fear cross the girl's face, and her hand reached for the sword behind her. Talisa grabbed Harod's arm, and he nodded slightly. If a fight broke out, killing the Lannisters would be best. They would be a great deal safer and the chance of escape would be slim. And she worried for the girl. Why would she be afraid of these men?

"You're the Hound." The girl relaxed, releasing her grip on the sword. Talisa did the same without realizing it. "Pour our new friend some ale," he told the innkeeper, walking over to the Hound's table.

The name sounded familiar. She looked at Harod, who whispered in her ear, "The Hound was the sworn shield of Joffrey." Her heart clenched painfully, now aware that this man had played a part in keeping the little Lannister bastard alive.

They both tensed as the leader sat down across from the Hound, merely two feet from them. He wasn't paying them any attention at the moment, but that could easily change. "What brings you so far North?" he asked curiously.

"I could ask the same of you." Tho Hound's voice was deep and a little raspy. He looked fearsome, with his scarred face and huge size. "What are you doing up here?"

"Just keeping the King's peace." Talisa wanted to shout at them that the North didn't belong to Joffrey. It belonged to the Starks. It had belonged to Robb. And now it would belong to Jon. But she once again bit her tongue and settled for silence. There was a fine line between acting brashly and speaking wisely, and she was not willing to cross that line.

"No need," the Hound replied, "war's over." _No it's not, _Talisa cried in her head. As long as her son grew in her womb and Arya remained out there, as long as Sansa was held in King's Landing and Jon Stark was alive, the war was still being fought. The Starks were stubborn and would not give in so easily.

"So I've heard. Stannis Baratheon defeated at the Blackwater. Robb Stark killed at the Twins. And where am I for all of it? Stuck with your brother. Meaning no offense." Gregor Clegane. Even in her brief time in Westeros, Talisa had heard the tales surrounding the Mountain That Rides. Namely, the rape and murder of Princess Elia of Dorne, and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon. What kind of man could do such a thing and be fine with it? What kind of monster did he have to be to feel no guilt?

"None taken." The Hound took a drink of ale. Polliver had not taken his eyes off the Hound once, and the other Lannister men kept a close eye on Brynden and the Hound both.

"But the war isn't quite over. Robb Stark's queen escaped the Twins. She's on the run." The girl's face lit up with surprise at this news, and Talisa could swear there was something like hope in her eyes. The Hound shared a similar expression, though it was hidden better.

"Now it feels like we're doing something important," the man continued. "You're brother's good at what he does, the best. But torture, torture, torture, torture. You spend enough time putting the hammer to people, you start to feel like a carpenter making chairs. Drains the fun right out of it. And what's life without a little fun?" He laughed, and it was all she could do not to retch just thinking about his words.

Talisa felt sick. This man was okay with torturing people? Who hadn't? But to torture people? And for what? She understood why flaying had been outlawed in the North. The girl seemed to share Talisa's views. She was glaring at the man, halfway between anger and disgust.

"Huh. But I don't need to tell you that, eh?" The fear was back in the girl's face.

The Hound glanced at her before looking back at the leader. "She's alright. I've had better." Talisa recoiled. The thought of the Hound sleeping with that girl was almost as horrible as that of torturing people.

"You know what? You should come with us. This kind, they've always got something hidden away somewhere. Gold, silver, more daughters. Always something if you know how to make them talk. And there's plenty of in-between here and King's Landing. You'd do well for yourself. We certainly have been. Maybe we'd even find Robb Stark's bitch on the way," Polliver said. The Hound appeared to be considering, but Talisa could see his mind was already made up. He wasn't going to do it.

"I'm not going to King's Landing," the Hound replied. Polliver was taken aback.

"But think about it. We could do whatever we like, wherever we go." He seemed unable to comprehend why the Hound wouldn't want this. He pointed to his clothing, the Lannister colors. "These are the King's colors. No one standing in his way now. Which means no one's standing in ours."

_Except for Jon Stark. And me, _she thought to herself. Once they reached the Wall, Jon Stark would be crowned King of the North. The lords would rally around him and he would exact vengeance on the Lannisters for what they'd done. _For Robb._

The Hound and the girl both had serious expressions on. They truly looked like the perfect companions. "Fuck the King," the Hound said. She could see the surprise on the other's faces, and it mirrored her own. Here was the King's sworn shield, insulting him. Maybe they had found a new ally.

The atmosphere had changed in an instant. Polliver was no longer smiling. The room had gone completely silent; even the woman had stopped whimpering. The girl had the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips. He watched as the Hound took a drink casually, as if nothing had happened. Polliver started to speak again. "When I heard that Joffrey's dog had tucked tail and run from the Battle of the Blackwater, I didn't believe it. But here you are-"

"Here I am. Bring me one of those chickens," the Hound commanded, interrupting him.

"You got money to pay for it?" Talisa could have scoffed. When had Lannister men ever cared about paying for what they took?

"You paid for it?"

The man chuckled. "No. But we're the King's men. So, you got money?"

"Not a penny. I'll still take that chicken." The Hound was deadly serious now, despite what he was demanding. Across the room, Talisa could see the Blackfish and Cal reaching for their weapons. Harod was doing the same. They could all see how tense things were getting. It was best to be prepared.

"Tell you what: we'll trade you. One of our little chickens," and he turned his gaze to the girl, "for one of yours. Give us a go at your friend. Lowle here likes them a bit broken in." One of the men raised his hand, and the others began laughing.

"You're a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty." The Hound reached for his cup, and gulped all the ale in it. He sighed when he finished and watched the leader again. "And hungry. Think I'll take two chickens."

The leader looked back at his men, who began readying themselves. Talisa's men did the same, though discreetly. "You don't seem to understand the situation."

"I understand that if any more words come pouring out your cunt mouth, I'm going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this room."

"You lived your life for the King. You gonna die for some chickens?"

"Someone is." There was a tense moment where the two men just stared at each other. Then the leader stood up and reached for his sword. He drew it, but the Hound knocked the table down on top of him.

Holding his sword in one hand, the Hound walked across the room to fight the other men. One of them came at the Hound, but his blow was deflected and he was knocked to the ground. The other man would have run at him, but Ser Brynden pulled out his sword and engaged him. He sliced the man's back, and plunged his sword through his stomach.

The Hound was fighting with another man, blocking all his cuts and hits, before throwing him down again. Cal joined him, fighting the other man. Together, he and the Hound overpowered him, and ended him with both swords slicing into his chest. The innkeeper and his family had run up the ladder and into the loft, crying in fear.

Cal and the Blackfish had stepped back, coming to stand beside Talisa. She had not moved from where she sat, just stayed there in eerie silence. They watched as the Hound dealt with two men, hitting one in the face and knocking out a few teeth. The other man managed to kick him to the ground while he was distracted and they began beating him. He stopped their swords with his own, and pushed one man back. Ser Brynden and Cal exchanged a look, as if debating whether to help the Hound or not, but there was no need. He knocked over the other and got to his feet. The first one was crawling for his sword, but the Hound stepped on the blade and punched him. The other man he hit in the gut and pushed away.

Her guardians seemed to decide this had gone on long enough. Cal took his sword and stabbed one man who was leaning against a post. The Blackfish drew his knife and shoved it into the back of the man who was trying to slit the Hound's throat. He cried out in pain and let go, giving the Hound the opportunity to hold the man's head, take his dagger, and shove his head onto the blade several times.

Whatever trance had held her was broken, and Talisa looked around, searching for the girl. She found her hiding in a corner, a grim determination in her face as she watched Polliver walking up to the others. Harod drew his blade, but before he could move forward, the girl had taken one of the dead men's sword, stepped silently up to him and cut his legs. He dropped to the ground, and the girl took the tiny sword that he had on his belt.

She stepped up to Polliver, who had fallen to the ground. She stared down at him. "Something wrong with your leg boy?" she asked darkly, holding the sword out in front of her.

"What, what, what do you mean?" He was struggling to speak.

"Can you walk? I've got to carry you?"

The man frowned at her words. "Carry me?"

"Fine little blade." She placed the point of it beneath his chin. He held up his hands in surrender. "Maybe I'll pick my teeth with it."

Realization came across him and he watched her in shock as she shoved the blade into his head. Blood poured out of his mouth and the wound when she removed it. He began choking on it, slowly dying. The girl wiped the blade, satisfied with her work. Talisa and Harod shared looks of horror at the girl's behavior.

"Who are you?" The Hound asked Ser Brynden. He still held his sword, though it was lowered. The Blackfish opened his mouth to speak, no doubt about to lie about who they really were. But Talisa had a better idea.

"My name is Talisa Stark. I am Robb Stark's wife and the Queen in the North," she stated calmly, standing up. Her companions looked at her as if she had gone mad.

The Hound laughed. "And why should I believe your claim? I wonder how many bitches there are that would be willing to call themselves the Queen in the North, if they were foolish enough."

"Believe it or don't. But the brother of Hoster Tully and two northerners here say that I am. Not to mention the others outside. You can listen to them, or you can say that we are lying." She felt no fear as she stood before him, looking him straight in the eye. Her fear had left with the deaths of the Lannister men. The Hound would not kill her, of that she was certain.

He appeared to be thinking, but it was the girl who spoke instead of him. "Robb Stark's wife?"

Talisa turned to her and nodded, brow furrowed in confusion at the girl's question. "That's right."

The girl smiled, though this time it wasn't an evil one. It was a relieved smile and a happy one. "I'm Arya Stark, Robb's sister."


	5. Perhaps It Will Be Alright

**Perhaps It Will Be Alright**

_So this is Arya Stark, _Talisa thought to herself as she and her company rode. They had taken the horses from the dead Lannister soldiers, and found some others on the road. She hadn't wanted to steal from anyone, but Ser Brynden would not hear it, and neither would the Hound or Arya.

Her good-sister disturbed Talisa. She was nice enough, but the way she had killed that man at the inn? And there was a look in her eyes, almost like she enjoyed it. Talisa hoped to fix that when they found Jon Stark. Robb had mentioned how Arya was closest to Jon. Maybe he could help her.

The Hound had joined them after she promised to pay him well for his help. Where she would actually get the money from, she did not know. Right now, though, they needed all the help they could get and Sandor Clegane was very good with a sword.

They were heading East, past the Eyrie and to the shore. Hopefully, they could find a ship willing to take them to Eastwatch-By-the-Sea. It would make their trip much easier. They would no longer have to worry about pursuit or waking up to find the enemy holding a sword to their throat. Just a quick journey across the sea, and they would find their destination.

Talisa slowed her horse down, letting the Hound and Arya catch up to her. Although they rarely spoke to one another, the two remained close in this group of strangers. Talisa couldn't begrudge them; she'd felt the same when she married Robb.

She smiled at Arya, who returned it halfheartedly. The younger girl had not warmed up entirely to her yet. "Can you tell me about your brother, Jon?" she asked her.

Arya looked at her curiously. They still had not told her why they were going to Castle Black, or what they planned to do afterwards. Talisa was still in conflict over whether it would be better to tell both Arya and Jon at the same time, or let Arya in on it now.

"He's quiet and solemn. He's kind to me and he understood me better than anyone else. He was never irritated with me like Sansa was. He gave me Needle," she said, tapping the hilt of her little sword.

"He sounds like a good man."

"He is." Arya's answer came immediately after Talisa finished speaking. Her eyes were suspicious now, as if she wasn't sure whether Talisa was insulting her brother or complimenting him.

"I'm sorry. Did I offend you?" The girl's devotion to her half-brother was strange. Talisa doubted many trueborn children were as fond of their bastard brothers as Arya was of hers.

Arya let out a long sigh. "No, it's just that... many disliked Jon because he was a bastard, my mother especially. I didn't really see why. I mean, I guess it makes sense for my mother to hate him. But no one else knew him. What right did they have to judge him because of something my father did?"

Talisa gave her a nod of understanding. "You're mother hated me when I married Robb. I knew why, but I didn't understand why she couldn't be happy for her son and just accept me." _It is all because I could not love a motherless child, _Lady Stark had told her when they had been riding back to Riverrun for Lord Hoster's funeral. They'd talked about Jon that day.

"Did- did they ever talk about me? My mother and Robb?" Arya's voice was soft and low, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

She smiled reassuringly at the younger girl, although the subject made her feel uncomfortable. "They did." _Not all the time. _"They were very concerned for you." _They grieved you. _"They wanted to find you." _They thought you were dead._

Arya took on a thoughtful look. She was quiet for some time, preferring to ride in silence. Talisa made no move to continue speaking with her; if Arya wanted to keep to herself, then she was fine with that.

The landscape around them changed. It was no longer a forest, with trees lining the sides of the road. Hills stretched before them, green with grass. There were rocky outcroppings, some jagged, others smooth. The distance was hazy with fog, which swirled and writhed in the cool air. They were getting closer to the Eyrie, though they had no intention of stopping there.

"Why will we not stop at the Bloody Gate? My mother's sister is there," Arya had said when they told her of their plan to go to Eastwatch.

"Because your aunt Lysa will not help us. Ser Brynden served her for many years, and he says she is not well." She left out the part where, later, after Talisa herself had pressed Ser Brynden to take them to the Eyrie, he had told her of Lysa's great jealousy of Catelyn Stark, and how she was nearly mad. Yes, they would avoid Lady Lysa at all costs.

Talisa guessed that Arya knew as well as she did that they were nearing the Bloody Gate. She worried that the girl would leave them, would try to make her own way in the world. If that was the case, Talisa doubted she'd be able to stop it. Arya had the Hound on her side, even if neither of them were willing to admit it. Why else would he keep her with him for all this time? They hadn't thought of Lysa Arryn on their own, she knew.

Ser Brynden halted them after riding for some time more. He dismounted and led his horse off the road and near one cluster of rocks. The others did the same, Talisa with the help of Cal. She thanked him, taking the reins of her horse and mimicking Ser Brynden. Arya and the Hound stayed a ways off, though they did the same.

When the horses were tied up securely, and they deemed this area safe for now, they began making camp. Talisa and Arya set out the furs they would sleep on, sitting upon them to speak. The others bustled around their little camp, some cooking, others doing the same as Arya. Cal was given the duty of keeping watch, which he got to immediately. Ser Brynden did, too, not trusting anyone's eyes but his own with the safety of his queen.

"What do you think the Lord Commander will do," Arya began hesitantly, after having spent some time in silence, "when we come? Will he welcome us? And can we really get Jon to join us? I mean, he has probably taken his vows by now. He's sworn to serve for life. Deserters are executed." There was hint of fear in Arya's voice.

Talisa tried her best to soothe the young girl. "It's alright. We'll figure something out. I'm sure that your brother will be fine."

"Will he be the father to your baby then?" The question was sudden, and she had not been expecting it. She was shocked, unsure how exactly to answer.

A half truthful answer would be _yes, Jon Stark will be the father of her baby._ But if she was being truthful, then the answer would be _perhaps._ Her child would grow up only knowing Jon Stark, never knowing Robb. A selfish part of her wanted to keep her child away from Jon Stark, so they would see no one as their father except Robb, from the stories Talisa would tell. But that would be cruel; every child should have a father, her child especially.

It wasn't just because they needed someone else to care for them. She wasn't very familiar with the politics of the North, or Westeros for that matter. Her child would be heir to the North, to Winterfell - once they reclaimed it. They needed someone to raise them who could teach them their ways, and prepare them for their duty.

Jon Stark was the son of Eddard Stark. Robb had told her that his half-brother had been raised the same as Robb, learning the ways of lordship. He knew the people of the North, and the people would trust him. He knew how to run a castle, how to dispense justice. He knew everything they needed to rule the North, and there was probably no one better for her child to learn from.

But Arya would probably not understand this, or would grow angry with this. So Talisa decided to reply simply, and to say, "Yes, he will be the father of my child." She felt little guilt at the half-truth (or was it half-lie?). She wasn't hurting anyone with it, just keeping things from seeming more complicated than they were.

Arya nodded her approval. "Good. Jon will be a great father. And king." She smiled fondly, as if recalling some far away memory.

"What?" Talisa asked, a small smile creeping upon her lips at the way Arya's eyes lightened considerably.

"It's just... " The young one trailed off, searching for words to explain her thoughts. "When I was younger, Robb took me, Sansa, Bran, and Rickon into the crypts of Winterfell. We were going looking at some of the older Kings in the North when Jon jumped out, covered in flour and appearing for all the world like a ghost. Rickon cried and Sansa screamed, and they both ran out. Bran was scared at first, and he wouldn't let go of Robb's leg, but he got over it and laughed with the rest of us."

"And you?" Talisa asked her, amused by this little story. Robb had told her very little of when he was a child.

Arya gave her a wide grin. "Me? I hit Jon and called him stupid for scaring me." They laughed together, sounding more like two children than a queen and a princess.

Breathlessly, Talisa managed to say, "What happened next?" She lost her smile when Arya hers. A sad look came over her face, and her eyes were downcast.

"Sansa ran and told Mother. She was angry with Jon for making Rickon cry and scaring the others." Her voice was small, no longer as sure and brave as it was before. "It was Robb's idea," she added quietly.

Of course. It would always come back to Catelyn Stark. That was one of the few things they had in common - the scorn and dislike of the late Lady Stark. She had never forgiven Talisa for the fault of being the woman that Robb had broken a vow for. She had never forgiven Jon for being the product of her husband's broken vow. And now she was dead, while two of those that she hated most lived on.

"I'm sorry," Talisa murmured to her goodsister, though for what, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe for taking away the little laughter they had finally found. Maybe for the punishment Jon Stark was given but did not deserve. Or maybe it was for reminding the poor girl that only her half-brother remained to her, and all the others were dead.

Arya gave a short nod, staring at the ground before her. The happy mood was gone now, replaced once again with reality and its problems. Talisa would curse the gods for bringing such bad luck upon them, for making their family suffer, but what good would that do? The gods had answered none of her prayers, why would they respond to her curses?

* * *

Talisa had woken the next morning to find most of their group gone. In fact, only the Hound and Arya remained with her. Arya explained that Ser Brynden and the others left to scout around the area, searching for anything useful. They had all gone in different directions, she told Talisa, so no threats could get past them.

With little else to do, she set to busying herself by packing away their campsite. She gathered their furs, folded them up and placed them together. She prepared their meager servings of food to make a breakfast of sorts for her three companions. When that was done, she saw to it that the food was saddled on two of the horses, who were watched closely, in case they managed to get loose.

As she did this, Arya unsheathed tiny Needle. Talisa watched, transfixed, as Arya began to practice... whatever it was she was practicing. She had seen the men in Robb's army do similar things, had seen Robb himself practicing sometimes. But the way Arya moved was incredible. Her movements were quick but flowed together, appearing more like she was dancing and not practicing to fight.

Arya had briefly mentioned a dancing master in King's Landing. Talisa had assumed that meant a teacher that taught her how to dance. It seemed that Arya had a different sort of dancing in mind.

Smiling to herself as she realized her mistake, Talisa turned back to her work. She was trying to sharpen the dagger she carried with herself now, in the way the Blackfish had taught her. It was a bit difficult; she'd never touched a blade like this before in her life. She'd used the saws she brought with her to amputate the wounded, but she'd never had to actually use a blade for anything other than that. Now, things were different.

She was about ready to give up and ask Arya for help, who was talking with the Hound, when she heard Arya say, "People coming." Then, to the Hound, she said, "You can shit later. There's people coming." Talisa lifted her head, standing in an instant and stepping closer to the other two.

A man - no, a large _woman _\- approached carefully. The woman had blonde hair, and was dressed in mail and armor. A sword hung at her waist, and her expression was one of curiosity. She appeared to be alone, but Talisa wasn't willing to count on that.

"Morning," the woman greeted them. Her eyes took in Arya, dressed as a boy, and Talisa, wearing torn clothes and looking like a beggar. Arya, it seemed, had finished her exercise, and was pointing Needle at the woman.

"Morning," Talisa replied carefully. Arya did the same, a bit more guardedly than Talisa.

"Are we getting closer to the Bloody Gate?" She asked Talisa. So she was not traveling alone.

Talisa pointed in the direction. "About ten more miles," she told the stranger.

The woman turned her head to the boy that was now in their sight.. "Did you hear that Podrick? It's only ten more miles to the Bloody Gate."

* * *

**This is a weird place to end this chapter, but I wanted to keep the more important Brienne (and Pod, we can't forget Pod) parts in the next chapter. Why, you might ask? Because I said so, that's why.**

**Watch this video on YouTube, called "Roose Change: The Lannister Honeypot" about Robb and Talisa. It will blow your mind. Watch it. I'll leave a link on my profile page.**


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